Fair Trade
by KartheyM
Summary: Opening Quote: "New lamps for old! New lamps for old!" Juliette and Nick are engaged and in the thick of wedding planning. Meanwhile, the Royals are willing to do anything to get the key... Juliette wants to do something nice for Nick, to celebrate, so when she finds an antique from Aunt Marie, she trades it with the best intentions... an old enemy returns...
1. Chapter 1: Good Tidings

Juliette placed the vase of flowers on the table and stood back to admire her work.

Strong arms clasped around her waist and gentle lips kissed her neck.

"It looks fantastic," Nick murmured in her ear.

Juliette smiled. "This is why spring is my favorite time of year," she said. "Did you see what I brought back from the Saturday market?"

Nick smiled as he pulled an apple from behind his back, "I missed it completely," he joked, taking a big bite.

"Nick!" Juliette frowned at him, "I got those specifically for pie filling!"

"Mmm," he took another bite and savored it. "No wonder they are so ripe."

Juliette chuckled and moved into the kitchen. "Come with me and we'll talk over plans for the day," she giggled. "It's not often a detective gets time off."

"I only have one day, maybe two," Nick answered, following her, "and that's barring any major situations; the Captain did tell me not to be too far from my phone."

"What, like I'd ask you to ditch it?" Juliette snorted. "Honestly, I think everyone is just relieved that you finally got another chance to propose!"

Nick shook his head as he helped his girlfriend—now his fiancée—load the produce into the refrigerator.  
"Nah," he remarked, "More like they're relieved for my sake that you finally accepted!"

They finished and leaned against the counter with their arms around each other. Juliette kissed him long.  
"I still can't decide if I really know why I ever refused," she whispered, grinning at him.

"Lucky for you, I'm not a man to hold grudges over slighted love."  
"Oh, how noble," she went in for another kiss.

A ferocious noise caused the two of them to pull apart involuntarily. Juliette frowned as it continued.

"Is..." she gasped, "is that a lawnmower?"

Nick moved to the window. Larry the Eisbieber was mowing their lawn. He saw Nick watching him and waved. Nick shook his head. He'd forgotten that he had asked Bud to help freshen the house and the yard, since neither he nor Juliette had much time for that sort of thing. It would figure that the dutiful Wesen would pick the day when the newly-engaged couple would be trying to celebrate the occasion (nearly two weeks after it happened) with a rare and well-earned holiday.

Nick saw Juliette wearing the skeptical please-explain expression. "I'm sorry; I asked the neighbors to just kind of help us out with Spring Cleaning, since we're both so busy working most of the time; I had no idea they would—"

"Choose to come on the one day we both have off?" she finished.

Nick pressed his lips and shrugged. "He's taking care of the yard," he reasoned, "at least we don't have to worry about him coming—" The doorbell rang, and Juliette answered it as Nick finished, "—into the house."

On the porch stood Bud and another female Eisbieber. Both had their arms loaded with cleaning supplies and appliances.  
"Hello Detective," the timid Wesen stammered. "Such a lovely day, and seeing you with your...almost-wife just makes it so much better. I hope you don't feel like we're intruding; we don't mean to barge in on you. We just finished considering your offer and we all thought, well—it's good luck to clean on a Saturday, so that the sun on Sunday dawns on a fresh house!" He fumbled one of the appliances in his arms, and Nick caught it.

"Come on in," he groaned reluctantly.

Bud nodded to the female, an older woman with grey-streaked chestnut hair. "This is Dottie; she came to help your... Juliette," he sounded out the name with some difficulty, "clean the bedrooms and wash the linens and such." He picked up his toolbox. "Meanwhile, where were those lights you mentioned?"

"Over here in the den," Nick led the way to the offending fixtures. He flicked the switch on the wall, and nothing happened.

"Ah, I see," Bud nodded his head rapidly, with a deeply serious expression. "So it's an electrical problem."

Nick just stared. Eisbiebers were harmless, but their innocence frequently got on his nerves.  
"Yes," he spoke through clenched teeth. "It is certainly electrical."

Bud grinned as he set the box down and began pulling out the necessary tools. "I'll have that fixed for you in a jiffy."

Nick left Bud in the den. At once he heard a furious rapping at the window by the front door.

"Detective! Detective!" It was Larry.

Nick threw open the door. "What is it?What happened?" His mind raced through the possible scenarios.

"Look!" Larry cried, thrusting his clenched fist toward Nick's face. Nick flinched, but then he saw what Larry was trying to show him: a four-leaf clover.

"I found it among a whole patch of them in the west corner of your yard!" The young Wesen was so excited, he was almost crying. "It means good luck for you both!"

Nick nodded and waved it off. "Yeah, thanks, Larry; just keep at it."  
"I will, sir."

Upstairs, Juliette pulled fresh sheets out of the linen closet for Dottie. The capable matron seized only the fitted sheet folded on top and threw it up in the air to watch carefully where it landed.

The sheet unfolded partially, the open end draping just barely over Juliette's stockinged feet.

Dottie immediately bent down and traced the creases with her finger.  
"Yes; good, strong times," she murmured, "plenty and ease, good friends—and many children!" She bundled the sheet and patted Juliette on the shoulder. "You've made a wise choice. The omens agree."

Juliette made no move to follow her till the woman had already entered the bedroom.

Downstairs, Nick saw flickering lights in the den.  
"Bud?" he called, moving toward the doorway.

The stocky Eisbieber stood by the switch, flipping it off and on in a vain attempt to count the flickers before the light came fully on.  
"Bud—"  
"Oh gosh!" Bud jumped in fright. "Sorry, Detec—Er, Nick, uh, I was just...testing the lights."

Nick raised an eyebrow. "You were counting, I saw you."

"You saw?" Bud's eyes got wide. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to cause trouble."

"You're not in trouble," Nuck reassured him, "not unless you lie to me. Now why were you counting?"

"No reason!"

"Bud?"

"All right!" Bud sighed and rubbed his forehead. "It's an old electricians myth: if the lights flicker twice before turning on, it means they'll last for as long as you need them to, and it will bring good fortune to everyone in the room." He flipped the switch one last time.

Nick caught two flickers—but he was not about to indulge any more superstition. "Thanks for fixing that, Bud."

"Sure thing!" Bud began packing his tools. "Anything for you and your almost-wife."

Nick rolled his eyes behind Bud's back.  
"Her name is Juliette," he told Bud, "you should call her that."

"Oh!" Bud got that terrified look in his eyes again. "I'm sorry... Juliette... I'll remember that from now on, I won't make that mistake again."

"Are you two talking about me?" Juliette herself appeared behind the hapless Bud, who started away from her with a cry.

Nick shrugged, but before he could say anything, Bud stammered, "Oh, uh, we were just talking about how beautiful you are, and how lucky our detective is to have you as his al—Juliette."

Juliette shot Nick a puzzled expression, but he just shrugged.

Bud tried to sidestep the awkward situation he had created by calling up the stairs, "Dottie? Are you finished?"

"Coming down now!" she called back.

Bud bobbed his head politely. "We'll be leaving now; let you two get back to, ah, to whatever it is young couples, um...do. Goodbye!"

In about ten minutes, Nick and Juliette were alone. They stood, enjoying the uninterrupted stillness that settled over the home. Finally, Juliette moved into the kitchen.

"I'm going to take care of this produce before it wilts," she mumbled to herself.

Nick knew she wasn't that worried about fruits and veggies.

"They're our neighbors, Juliette," he assured her, "and they offered to help—for no pay."

She slammed the bag of carrots on the counter. "See? Don't you find that just a little bit weird? Who works for no pay? And Dottie was saying some strange things—like telling our fortune in the creases of the sheets. I mean, I get unusual characters bringing their pets into the animal hospital, but this—"

"They're harmless!" Nick protested, "And friendly!"

"Freaked out is more like it!" Juliette staunchly refused to be convinced. "Yet no one seems to be able to give me a convincing reason why! Not even Hank, and out of all your friends, he's known you the longest!" She shook her head. "Honestly, Nick—sometimes I get the feeling you're holding out on me. Like there's something that more and more people are figuring out about you...but I can't seem to figure out just what it is." Juliette stood and stared deeply into Nick's face.

He held his ground, but on the inside he was squirming like crazy. "When it's time for you to know, you'll know," he said, and quickly left the room before he or Juliette spoke another word.

She began sorting the ripest fruits to make a salad for that evening's dinner.  
"Does that mean I have to be the last one to know?" she grumbled.


	2. Chapter 2: Prison Break

**Oregon State Penitentiary, Salem, OR**

Officer Kathy glanced at the two burly, silent gentlemen standing in the visitor's area. They were here to negotiate the release of Prisoner 188019, the blond. They were no relation, only friends. A small nagging voice at the back of her mind told her that she needn't fear or suspect these men, so long as she complied.  
As per protocol, she ran checks on the men. All their paperwork seemed in perfect order and entirely above suspicion, right down to the fees involved.

Prisoner 188019 soon received her effects and turned in her jumpsuit. She smirked at her escorts.  
"I trust you found the security checkpoints more than accomodating?"

"Don't flatter yourself," one of the Hundjaeger grunted. "We are not customarily refused by any government establishment."

"Yes," the woman had a strange glint in her large blue eyes, "but this is a prison, and I'm the golden harp you're stealing from Jack's giant; come, you must give me some credit!"

"Why should we?" the other one asked.  
She tapped her chin and rolled her eyes mockingly. "Let me see, the Royal Family orchestrates my release; I seriously doubt it's because they have a soft spot for me. I should have been a nobody, here and gone like all the rest. Instead, they want me so badly that they send in a retrieval team to make sure nothing goes wrong—or," she suddenly sniffed at their necks. She smiled and smoothed one Hundjaeger's collar.  
"Maybe it's to make sure everything goes right. You're Ivan," she said, "and you like to read science fiction. I'm getting a whiff of something Asimovian, _Nemesis_, perhaps? Or _Nightfall_?"

The big Wesen grunted uncomfortably. "Can't remember."

Her strangely-blue eyes danced as she stared at him. "_Nightfall_, I think; you positively reek of it; did you like my note between pages 45 and 46? And you," she turned to his companion and drew a breath through her nose. "Hhmm, I detect a vague sense of a _Telltale Heart,_ a bit of _The Purloined Letter_—oh! You must have picked up my copy of Edgar Allen Poe! I hope my markings weren't too distracting; I did enjoy that book so much!" She smiled and clapped her hands.

The sound made both men wince, as the beginnings of a ferocious headache began.

She did not seem to notice. "Follow me gentlemen. I've had just about enough of this place." She strode toward the exit, out the visitor's lobby.

She stopped just behind the security booth, where the same officer who had checked the two men in prepared to check the trio out.

"Dear Kathy," she gushed. "I can never thank you enough for everything you've given me during my time here. Did you get my note?"

Kathy had never received such gratitude from an ex-con. She blushed and stammered an affirmative answer.  
The former inmate clapped her hands. "Wonderful! I'm very sorry that I won't be seeing you again."

Kathy's head was swimming. She couldn't think; her brain stopped functioning, and her legs melted into jelly. The blond didn't seem fazed; she raised a finger in recollection.

"Oh, and by the way—" She stopped as Kathy's eyes glazed over and she collapsed. The blond counted to three, and the instant she finished, Kathy gave one more shudder and lay still.

The woman knelt next to her head and inspected her right ear closely. "I think you have something of mine." Carefully, she extended her pointer finger. It morphed, extending into a foot-long claw with a small barb at the end. This she inserted with surgical precision into the dead warden's ear canal. "Come on out, little one." When she withdrew the claw, it had a long, white worm wrapped around the end. She rested the tip of the claw against her own ear, and the worm slipped into the canal. She sighed as it disappeared. "Oh, that feels _so much better_." The two Hundjaeger stood numbly by, giving no sign that they had witnessed anything revolting or extraordinary. She turned upon them, her eyes dancing as she absorbed the energy the worm had received from Kathy. "Now where were we?" She asked. Her escorts didn't move. She pointed to the unguarded door before them. "Proceed, gentlemen."  
Immediately, they walked before her as the trio passed unhindered and unobserved out of the prison.

Just outside the yard, a man in a beige three-piece suit and a purple silk tie waited for the incoming group.

The woman came to a stop just outside the gate, with the Hundjaegers behind her. "Well, well; you've gotten yourself into a _Royal_ pickle, haven't you?" she greeted the man.

He remained exactly where he was, like a man superior enough to transcend common etiquette. "What makes you say that?"

The female Wesen shrugged her shoulder like an underling with enough self-importance to ignore proper respect toward superiors. "Oh, I'm hearing rumors." She tapped her head suggestively and winked boldly at him. "I've told you all about them, didn't you get my notes?" Her wide blue eyes blinked innocently.

The man held her gaze and continued to lean against the car, but he uncrossed his feet to communicate his discomfort. "I don't commonly read mail from convicts," he excused himself pointedly.

She chuckled darkly. "Hey, a girl's gotta do something to stay in the game! Speaking of, they didn't feed me much in there; can we get in the car and drive somewhere so I can eat?"

Finally, the man moved away from the sedan. "Sure," he replied casually. "First take them out." He nodded to the two Hundjaegers standing behind her.

She feigned ignorance. "Take out your bodyguards?" she guessed.

He knew she was stalling, and they were running out of time. "No."

She goaded him, "Speak plainer, I don't know what you mean."

Finally, he dared drop his casual demeanor and take a step toward her. "You know exactly what I mean, you insidious parasite!" he growled, "Take out the worms!"

She rolled her eyes defiantly. "Oh come on! Don't be a spoilsport; five more minutes?"

He had the upper hand now. He resumed the casual stance. "None; my car, my guards, my rules. I will get in and drive off and leave you standing in this parking lot if you don't comply."

She glared at him. "Threatening me? Gracious! What would Dear Old Dad think?"

"You forget who you're talking to; I am performing this service as a free agent. I could dispose of you at any time and write it off as an unfortunate accident."

"And then where would you be, my fine fellow?" she lashed out. "You're saying this was your idea to break me out of prison? Please!" she scoffed. "_I'm_ the one who knows exactly what everyone here is doing. I've been planning my own escape since Day One. I hold all the cards. You couldn't orchestrate your way out of a plastic bag!"

"Five minutes are up," he stated, drawing a silenced pistol. "Four...three...two..."

A brief moment of fear flashed in her eyes, quickly replaced by an insolent expression. "Geez! All right, fine! What's got your screw in a knot?" She faced the two burly men behind her.

They watched impassively as she spread her arms and both index fingers extended into the same hideous claws she had used before. "Pardon me, gents," she announced to the unresponsive men, "I normally prefer to wait until you're dead, but unfortunately under the circumstances, I don't have that luxury. This is really going to hurt, but try not to scream or move, as that tends to agitate them." Without further ado, she plunged her claws into both their heads at once—straight through their temples instead of the ear canal. As soon as their screams died, the two Hundjaegers collapsed with neat, bleeding holes in their skulls. Unperturbed, the Wesen cupped the small grubs in her palm and displayed them before her waiting employer. "See? Two little ones!" Smirking, she inserted the grubs into her own ear. She rolled her eyes. "Now can I get in the car?"

He scowled at her. "You didn't have to kill them, you know."

She sauntered toward him, smiling wickedly. "Oops; can't say it's any waste of talent, though. You can always get more from the Verrat." Her hand found the handle of the door, but she could not open it while he stood there.

He leaned in close, murder showing in his dark eyes.  
"I could kill you now if I wanted to."

She glared back defiantly. "But you won't. I'm too valuable," she insisted.

"Please; what I paid to get you out of jail wouldn't even afford me a new pair of shoes. You weren't worth all that much to the Oregon penal system, and you aren't worth much to the Family! They've sent the Brothers to recruit Reinegen; you're not even worth more than a Third-Cousin: me!"

She would not cave. "Vital, then, if you're going to argue semantics." She spat. "You need something done, and I am the only being on the planet who can do it."

For one tense moment, they locked eyes. His face never moved, but she heard the latch click as he opened the door. She climbed inside, and he came in after her.

"This is more like it," she grumbled.  
The driver pulled away as soon as they were settled.

"Yes," he finally acknowledged, "I suppose someone did mention in passing that you seemed rather adept at... making things happen."

She grinned smugly. "I figured as much when your prize bitch showed up with a 'get out of jail soon' present." She inspected her hands and found a small streak of Hunjaeger blood on one. She calmly sucked it off. "Why They still keep that _Ex_-enbiest around is beyond me! Oh, by the way," she continued casually, "You didn't happen to bring any of my _necessary equipment_, did you?" she emphasized her words significantly.

He nodded. "Of course; the urgency of the situation dictates that we must set a plan in motion as soon as possible."

She kept her mouth in a terse line. "So let's have it."

He opened a black leather valise he had with him and pulled out two objects, placing them in her lap.

She sneered at them and turned her eyes on him. "Seriously? A pen and a notebook. How...archaic." She pushed them away and folded her arms as if loath to touch them. "Sorry, this isn't really my..._type_." She raised her eyebrows in a not-so-subtle hint.

He understood her meaning, but did not give in. "The ink has been specially treated with the same properties as the ribbon you used," he assured her. "You'll get a typewriter when this job is done."

She took up the pen with a scowl. "All right; who's the mark?"

The man got down to business.  
"My family has heard of the incident that caused your incarceration, and it has come to our attention that we have a common enemy."

A smile slowly crept across her face as understanding dawned. "I think I like where this is going," she mused.

He smiled too. "How would you like to take your revenge?" he asked.

"I have written about virtually nothing else these last few months. In fact, I was going to take it anyway, myself, but with sanction from the Royal Family—"

He nodded. "You would have everything you need to get what you want, provided we get what we want. Get it for us, and you will be richly rewarded."

She settled back in her seat, satisfied with this turn of events. "Revenge is the only reward I need; after that—a posh retirement," she decided.

He turned and watched the scenery roll by. "Do the job first, then you can retire," he informed her.

She sat forward quickly. "Oh, speaking of retiring—"

As he watched, she carefully spelled out the name A-D-A-L-I-N-D and immediately scratched it out. When she looked up, something told him that he knew what those letters meant, buy he could not think of the name—or the person that went with it.

"Whose name did you just erase?" He demanded of her.

She waved her hand. "Oh, no one; just a favor for a friend."

He snorted. "I know that your writing can hardly be taken so lightly; did you kill her?"

She opened her eyes wide in mock horror. "Goodness no!" she cried. "I just hid her from the memory of known associates for a time. You'll remember her again—when she's too far out of your grasp. Till then, the sight of her will only trigger a vague memory in your mind."

He shifted uncomfortably away from this bizarre Wesen. "I have a feeling I might know who you're talking about, but I can't quite put my finger on it."

She shrugged. "No matter; where will I be staying while I'm here?"

He scowled at her cavalier behavior. "We'll give you a suite in the Hotel deLuxe, but I'm sure you'll need to establish contact before you can work remotely. Are you ready?"

She grinned, and for the first time, he watched her face woge. Her eyes and forehead expanded and her chin narrowed. Her smile was full of small, sharp teeth.

"Bring me to him," she hissed.


	3. Chapter 3: Promises, Promises

Nick charged around the corner onto the street where he lived and slackened his pace as he reached the corner. He walked up the concrete steps toward the house, pausing on the wooden ones to stretch on his way to the door.  
A three-mile run before breakfast was nearly a bygone luxury, but it felt good. Running for it's own sake, not because a perpetrator had escaped his grasp, or someone was being attacked. The ease of stress made this break really feel like a respite.

A sudden thrill of birdsong caused him to turn. A small bird with a forked tail landed on the mailbox on the fence not two yards from where he stood. Nick identified the species as a swift. He vaguely remembered reading somewhere that the appearance of a swift heralded the coming of good news, but he immediately dismissed the thought. The superstition of the Eisbiebers was rubbing off on him!

Nick let his weight rest against the door as he performed a series of arm and leg stretches. Near the end, Nick had one arm resting against the door, his other arm crossed against it, and one knee against the doorknob. Suddenly, his support gave way and he stumbled awkwardly into Juliette, who had just opened the door.

"Whoa!" they both cried at the same time.  
Nick landed on his hands and knees, and Juliette clasped his hand to help him up.

"I heard banging on the door and thought you were trying to come in," she explained, slightly embarrassed.

Nick chuckled, "I'll be all right."

The two of them walked into the kitchen. Nick grabbed a glass from the cupboard and filled it with cold water from the fridge.

"How was the run?" Juliette asked as she poured out fresh breakfast smoothies for the two of them.

"Good," Nick sighed as his body relaxed. "I saw someone at the park."

Juliette looked up, instantly suspicious. "Someone—like, a notorious someone? Dangerous?"

"No," Nick shook his head. "Nothing like that. It was—" Nick stopped and frowned all of a sudden. "Let's see, um, her name was—"

"_Her_ name?" Juliette's voice held a note of jealousy.

"It's not like that, I swear!" Nick cried. "You know who she is!"

Juliette shook her head, "No I don't."

Nick blinked. He recalled now that whatever events connected him with this person he now could not remember happened without Juliette's knowledge. "No," he agreed, "I guess you wouldn't."

He took a gulp of the smoothies and grimaced. He set the cup on the counter and regarded it distastefully. "What did you put in there?"

Juliette bit her lip. "Too much ginger?" she asked, sampling hers. One small sip, and she began spluttering as well. "Ugh! Yeah... Too much ginger." She poured the mixture back in the blender. "I'll try adding more fruit," she said as Nick poured his smoothie back as well.

"I'll be upstairs on my computer," he announced.  
"I've got dibs on the one down here," Juliette replied with a nod.

Nick ran upstairs and logged onto his computer. He entered "destination honeymoon fair price" into the search engine and fell to clicking through endless options. It always seemed that whenever he found a promising option, the fine print contained extra fees, or limited options for the quoted "fair price." The other destinations were far too expensive. He knew he didn't want to be skimpy on their honeymoon, but there was a line between skimping and splurging, and Juliette would know if he crossed it. He wanted it to be special and relaxing for both of them.

They convened for lunch in the kitchen. Nick could tell by Juliette's face that she wasn't having much more success with wedding details than he was with the honeymoon.

With a sigh, Juliette unlocked the window over the sink and opened it. A sudden gust of wind carried light, small flower petals into her face.

"Whoa!" she took a step back and waved them away from her.

Nick watched a whole bloom hit the floor. For some strange reason, he recognized the flower as he picked it up.  
"Where did that come from?" Juliette looked at the petals around her feet.

"Apple blossoms are traditionally a symbol of good fortune."

Nick and Juliette made eye contact before he realized that he had spoken aloud in the same moment the thought occurred in his head.

Juliette furrowed her brow, "How did you know that?" she asked in confusion.

Nick blinked. "I...have no idea," he admitted. He helped her clean up the petals.

By the time they sat down to eat, Juliette had forgotten the apple blossom incident and now informed Nick of her troubles with arranging the wedding.

"I mean, I realize we don't have a date yet," she remarked, "but still, there are a lot of details! You can't just, you know, have a wedding; you have to have a ceremony and a reception, you have to have caterers, there's so many venues to choose from, and are we going to do live musicians or recorded music, and what kind of decorations and deciding the colors—"

"Yeah, I'm not having much luck on my end, either," Nick agreed. "I can help with your stuff, if you like."

Juliette nodded, "Maybe just another pair of eyes looking for things will help. I'll send you links to what I'm trying to decide, and you can help me cone to a conclusion."

They departed to their respective devices.

After several hours of fruitless searching, Nick looked around the room and realized that it had suddenly grown dark around him. He rubbed his tired eyes and laid aside his computer.

As matters stood, he had narrowed the honeymoon locations down to five that were within his reasonable price range. They weren't very posh or exciting, but they were relatively pleasant, and he knew the two of them would enjoy themselves at any one of them.

Juliette, meanwhile, was still knee-deep in decisions and choices, even with Nick's help. When he came downstairs, she was sitting on the couch, her arms clasped around her knees, staring at the blank wall across from her.

"I don't want to decide anything anymore," she mumbled. "Not even what to make for dinner."

Nick pulled out his phone. "Fine, I'll order us some takeout."

"Whatever," she let her head fall on the arm of the couch beside her. "I'm done thinking."

Nick joined her on the couch when the food arrived, and spread the boxes out on the coffee table.  
"Bon appetit," he announced with a flourish.

After they'd eaten their fill, Nick picked up the two fortune cookies and handed one to Juliette. Together, they cracked them open.

"Me first," Juliette said, smiling at last. "_Many friends will soon gather to celebrate with you_. Hmm! That means that lots of people will come to our wedding, doesn't it?" She raised her eyebrows at Nick.

He chuckled and pulled out his fortune. "_You will receive gifts from strangers if you maintain your course,_" he read. "Huh, I wonder what that's supposed to mean?"

"Don't tell me our harmless, friendly neighbors are going to be bringing more quilts and pies!" Juliette cried.

Nick laughed, "No, I think we're past that! Besides, it's not like these things have anything to do with real life."

He noticed a folded piece of paper on the end table by his elbow. "What's this?" He picked it up and opened it.

"Oh, I found it stuck in the mail slot by the door earlier this afternoon. It's for you."

Nick recognized Captain Renard's slanting, compressed handwriting. "_RF in PDX. Keep it safe, be on guard. -R"_ He couldn't help the serious expression as he folded the paper and tucked it in his pocket.

"Who's it from?" Juliette asked.

"It's not signed," Nick lied, "I'm not sure who it's from."

"Weird," Juliette observed. She leaned confidingly on Nick's shoulder. "Can we watch a movie?"

"Sounds good to me," he consented.

Halfway through _Leap Year,_ Juliette was fast asleep on his shoulder. Nick carefully reached around her head and pulled out the chain on which hung the green key that was his to guard with his life. Monroe had question the wisdom of carrying the key with him all the time, but Nick felt it was the safest place.

"Renard found the key when it was hidden, and I wasn't there to stop him," he'd told the Blutbad. "This key is never leaving my neck, and as long as it's here, anyone coming after it is going to have to take my head off to get it."

Monroe had shaken his head. "I don't think that would stop anyone if they want it badly enough!"

Now the Royals had returned to Portland, looking to get the key by any means necessary. Nick resolved to check up on who it might be when he returned to work the next morning.

Nick was already at his desk and getting caught up on the work he missed during his break when Hank stumbled up behind him, coffees in both hands.

"Hey!" Nick grinned at him. "Is one of those for me?"

"Not if you don't want me to fight you for it!" Hank groused. "I had a helluva week, man! I need this stuff." He slouched in his seat to finish the first cup and begin the second.

Nick had only a small coffee on his way to the precinct, but he felt rested and full of energy.

"Vacation did you some good, I see," Hank grumbled.

Nick nodded, "I feel great! I want to make up for the work I missed." He clicked his e-mail inbox. The grin disappeared into a gaze of shock.

Hank noticed. "What's up?"

"Wow," Nick gasped. "Oh...wow."

Hank rolled his chair around to Nick's desk to see what he was looking at. He read the e-mail banner twice to make sure he wasn't seeing things.

"Two round-trip tickets for $99 each?" he gasped. "Fly anywhere? Dang!" he chortled. "What sort of contest did you win?"

Nick felt like his body had gone numb. His head spun. "I—there wasn't a contest! I just started looking at ticket prices for next month yesterday!"

Hank laughed again with a shake of his head. "Somebody upstairs is lookin' out for you, man!"

Nick closed the e-mail and returned to his inbox screen. "Whoa! What?" He opened a second e-mail. This one advertised a couples resort on a Caribbean island, resplendent with fun activities for the more energetic, and plenty of quiet space for the more relaxed folk. "Stay five days, four nights for free?" he read. "Grand Opening Special?"

"Oh man, Juliette would love that!" Hank agreed.

Nick ran his hands through his hair. "I don't believe it! Everything just clicks together so perfectly!"

The rest of the day passed in a blur. One moment, Nick and Hank were just sitting down to go over the day's case files, and in the next instant, the day was over and the two of them were ready to leave, heady with the sense of success. He logged the last few hours and closed up.

"Headed home?" Hank asked the grinning detective.

"Of course," Nick responded, "I can't wait to tell Juliette the great news!"

Juliette met him at the door.  
"You'll never believe what I'm about to tell you!" she gushed, throwing her arms around him in sheer excitement. "Come in and see!"

Nick followed, exclaiming, "I have some exciting news for you, too—"

Juliette all but ignored him as she started pulling up various webpages.

"Okay, first, for the ceremony—" She stepped back to give Nick a full view. The picture showed rolling hills against a backdrop of cool mountains and sky. Jannah Vineyards it was called, and it very much looked like a "garden of Paradise" as the name suggested.

"I checked the weather, and there's a whole week where there will be plenty of sun, and clear skies!" Juliette's eyes danced.

"How much?" Nick asked. It did look promising, but he knew that the owners might be counting on the visual appeal of the place to drive up business.

Juliette still smiled as she clicked on the list of rates.

Nick gasped, "What? And that price—"

Juliette nodded, "Yep, it covers the ceremony, reception, complementary bottles for the wedding party, and catered hors d'ouvres!"

Nick grinned. "Un-be-lievable!" he cried.

"It gets better," Juliette told him, and proceeded to show him the day's finds: a cake, a dress, a florist, invitations, and a live band—for a little over half what they budgeted!

"We're going to have a wedding!" she squealed.

"We're going to have a honeymoon, too!" Nick told her.

"Really?" Juliette asked, "Where?"

He grinned, "Not giving away particulars, but pack for warm weather—and there will be plenty for us to do there."

"Oh my gosh, this is so great!" Juliette sighed. "It's like a dream come true!"

Nick kissed her, "It really is."

The next morning, Nick got up and left for work. Juliette was in the shower. When she emerged, she noticed something unfamiliar on his nightstand. A heavy pendant made of some antique green metal. She recalled seeing it hanging on Nick's neck the night before. It kept whacking her in the face, so he'd taken it off. As a kindness, she opened the drawer below it to slip the necklace inside. Just then, the doorbell rang. Juliette answered it.

A young woman in jeans and a windbreaker stood on the front porch. She carried a sample case of some sort. She smiled, and Juliette marveled at how her bright-blue eyes set off her golden hair, pulled back in a glossy ponytail.

"Hi," she said, "My name is Gina, and I am an independent jewelry artist in the area. May I interest you in some handcrafted pieces of original, wearable art?" She cracked the latch on the case she carried, ever so slightly.

Juliette took a step back and prepared to close the door. "No thank you, I'm not interested—"

"They make great gifts, if you don't need any for yourself. How would you like to see the look on your loved one's face when he opens a pair of one-of-a-kind cufflinks, or a specially personalized tie clip?"

Juliette paused as an idea began shaping in her mind.

"Can you incorporate antiques into a piece of jewelry without ruining it?" she asked.

The woman called Gina smiled. "Let me show you what I can do," she promised.


	4. Chapter 4: Castles of Sand

"Nick, can I see you in my office right now?" Renard accosted him as he came in from tracking down a missing witness for a recent hold-up at a Minit-Mart.  
"Sure," Nick followed the captain.

Renard waited till Nick closed the door, then he whirled upon him.

"What were you thinking?" he snarled. "Didn't I warn you? I save your ass time and time again, and this is the thanks I get?"

"Warn me about what?" Nick didn't understand his anger. "The key? It's safe—" Nick made no visible signal toward it's location, but one shrug of his shoulder told him all he needed to know. For a moment, he wondered how he could have missed taking it off—then he remembered the night before, and how he would rather remember to put it back on the next morning than try and explain it all to Juliette or risk her getting caught trying to return it to him. "It's safe," he repeated, this time to reassure himself. "I know just where it is."

"Oh yeah?" Renard snapped back, "Well so do the Royals! I just got a text from my brother to help the liaison they're sending to collect it. We have one week before he arrives. Either I give it to them, or they're prepared to take it."

"Do they know where it is?" Nick asked.

Renard glared at him. "Apparently so; once I let them know I am willing to get it myself, they'll send me the location they acquired from a local source."

"What source?" Nick frowned. He knew better than to wave the key around in public; there is no way any of his friends who knew about the key would betray him like this.

Renard shrugged. "That's something you'd better find out! Who have you told about the key's existence or location?"

"Everyone who knows about the key whom I can trust knows its location," Nick replied guardedly. "Those that don't know where it is trust me enough to know that it's safe."

"Yeah, well, I don't trust you any more!" Renard fought to keep from shouting. "I can't say that I trust you when I give you fair warning and crap like this happens!"

"Look, nothing's happened yet; just let them know that you're going for it, that will give me time to get—to move it to a different location. Then at least they'll come to you looking for the key, and they're not going to come after Juliette or anything."

The captain sighed, "All right; just—don't ever do this again."

Nick nodded, "Yes sir."

"Dismissed."

Nick returned to his desk. Wu walked up just as he sat down.

"You were in there for quite a while," he observed, "are you in some sort of trouble?"

Nick shook his head. "Nope; just had a few things to talk about."

Wu handed him a folded paper. "Your girlfriend came in while you were talking," he said.

"Is she still here?" Nick looked around the bullpen. "What did she want? Why didn't you tell me?"

The deputy shrugged, "I offered, but she just said to give you this note."

Nick took the note and opened it.

_"Got you something nice today. 3 -Juliette"_

The stress of not having the key and getting chewed out by the captain was leaving a dull pressure in Nick's head. The rest of the day was eclipsed by thoughts of the Royals finding the key, and hoping Juliette didn't get too curious about it.

Nick got home to find Juliette watching Bud try and dislodge the ice tray from the freezer.

"You know," Bud was saying, "My grandma would always say that if the ice freezes over like this it means there is bad news coming; freezing over on a Tuesday, now, that would be bad luck."

Juliette looked over at Nick, worry written across her face.

"Today is Tuesday," she whimpered.

"Okay, come here," he took her by the hand and brought her into the dining room. He pulled her into a firm hug.  
"I know Bud and the others have been talking a lot about good luck and bad luck a lot lately, but that doesn't make it true, hear me?" He pulled back and looked her in the face. "Don't believe in that stuff; it's a whole lot of worry over nothing. It's _just a freezer_, Juliette."

"Uh, Nick?" Bud poked his head in the doorway, "I've got it broken up, and I reset the thaw and freeze cycle so this shouldn't happen again."

Nick nodded, "Thanks Bud."

"I'll, uh, I'll let myself out the back door here."

"Thanks Bud!" Juliette called after him.

"See?" Nick said, "It's fixed; we are going to have that wedding, and it's going to work out, notwithstanding the good or bad luck."

In the next few days, Nick felt less and less reassured by his own advice.  
When Juliette went to place the order for the invitations, it turned out that the envelopes and return address labels cost extra. The extra tax and fees made it more expensive than either of them wanted to spend on a piece of paper that most people would throw away, so she was reduced to ordering a bunch of postcards with their photo printed on it and the address of Jannah Vineyards.

On Wednesday, Juliette picked up the dress and right away dropped it off at the cleaners. Nick went online to redeem the coupon for the airline tickets, but to his horror, he discovered that the promotion was a scam, and the airline would not accept the code. On his way to work, Nick was in a hurry and nearly ran into a dark-haired man crossing the street in front of his car. The man looked up and briefly woged into a black-furred Balam. A black cat crossing his path. Nick shook his head—and as he did, he happened to glimpse the nearby Peet's Coffee, where a couple sat, enjoying each other's company. At least, they looked like they were—but one was a Fuchsbau and the other was a Seltenvogel. The likelihood of such a relationship was virtually nonexistent, yet they both seemed very happy.

On Thursday, Nick tried to go and place reservations at Jannah Vineyards, only for the event coordinator to regretfully inform him that the date they agreed on (and printed on the invitations) had been booked already. He logged on and searched for that new couples resort, but instead got a whole host of reviews decrying the offer as deceptively cheap. Several others who had tried to get the deal found hidden fees and limitations that were not indicated anywhere in the initial offer.

Nick returned home to find a stack of returned postcards marked "not deliverable as addressed" and many "unable to attend" responses.  
"Juliette?" he called in the silent house. She must be heartbroken that everything was falling apart like this.

He found her upstairs in the bedroom, staring at the wedding dress hanging on the bathroom door.  
All across it's ruffled white surface, a smattering of tiny red dots showed up as plainly as chicken pox.

"Did it come back from the cleaners like this?" Nick asked, sitting next to her and putting his arms around her.

She leaned on his shoulder. "So you see it too? Good, I thought I was going crazy when the cleaners swore there was nothing wrong with it. They just showed up—the spots, I mean—and I can't get them out!" She hung her head and began crying.

Just then the doorbell rang.  
"Oh!" Juliette cried, jumping up and wiping her face. "That must be Gina!" She ran downstairs and opened the door.

When Nick arrived, Juliette was closing the door with another stack of postcards in her hand.

"What is with this?" she cried, tossing these on the table with the others.

Nick recalled one thing that he'd missed seeing in the bedroom.

"Juliette," he began hesitantly, "do you remember that necklace that I was wearing last night?"

"The pendant?" Was it just Nick, or did Juliette seem a bit nervous all of a sudden? "Yeah...why?"

"Where is it?"

"I, um—"

Nick lunged forward and grabbed her. "Juliette, that antique was an especial gift from Aunt Marie! I don't want to lose it!"

"You're not going to! We should be getting it back sometime today!"  
Nick jerked back in surprise. "What?"

Juliette sighed, "It was going to be a surprise, but I guess since I took something without permission...okay, here goes: I was trying to cone up with something special to give you to wear for the wedding, and then this girl shows up saying that she makes artistic jewelry, and she told me that she could put that pendant on a tie clip for you. I figured it would be a much easier way to commemorate Aunt Marie than a necklace."

"You gave it to her?" Nick exploded.

"Look, Nick! I was trying to do something nice for you!" The tears returned to her eyes. "It's not like she's dangerous!"

"How do you know if she is? You didn't think Adalind was dangerous!"

"It wasn't Adalind!" Juliette snatched a tissue from the box and wiped her face. "Look, Nick, I'm sorry for taking it without asking, but just tell me this: what did I do that was so wrong?"

Nick's headache was increasing. She couldn't know how important the key was; he couldn't tell her that he had been charged with protecting it with his life.

"I can't say," he admitted to Juliette. "But you had better get it back as soon as possible."

She nodded, "I will; I'll call her and tell her to bring it back right away." Juliette left the room, leaving Nick to recount the week's events.

As much as he did not want to believe in omens and signs, everything seemed to support it. They get "good luck" omens, and everything works out. Then the "bad luck" signs come, and their "airtight" plans fall apart. He reflected on everything. It had seemed so coincidental at first, but to have everything fall apart in one day, to have so many chance encounters orchestrated in one small area—

"Chance encounters," Nick murmured to himself. He recalled a series of inexplicable "chance encounters" he'd had a few months ago...victims totally unrelated at first...yet as the case progressed, Nick found they had at least one thing in common...involving a particularly vicious Wesen...


	5. Chapter 5: The Silvertongue's Amulet

Rosalee was just cataloguing a new shipment of spices when Nick walked in.

"Hey Nick," she greeted him with a smile, "What do you need?"

He had a firm determination in his eye. "I'm having this terrific headache and I think gedankewasser just might do the trick," he told her.

Rosalee's smile dropped. "Gedankewasser? Are you certain? How could you—Nick, when did these headaches start?"

"Just the other day," he answered. "I know where they're from, and I know the cure," the pressure was increasing now; he winced against the pain. "Just get it for me!"

"Nick, did Monroe recommend the gedankewasser?"

"Yeah, he said it was the antidote for something like this."

"Like what?"

"Like the influence of a—" somehow the word eluded his tongue, "of a...thing! A Wesen—you know. Argh!" He clutched his forehead.

"Here," Rosalee handed him a vial of an amber-colored liquid.

"What do I do with this?" Nick asked. "Pour it in my ears?"

"Your eyes, actually," Rosalee replied. "It's the quickest way to the brain. It doesn't kill the Bücherwurm, but it stuns it temporarily."

Nick obediently tilted the contents of the bottle into each eye. Rosalee slipped a tissue into his groping hand and he wiped the excess away.

"How does it feel now?" she asked.

Nick opened his eyes as the pain subsided. "Better," he answered. "So—you're telling me Monroe was wrong about the Kinderphantasie?"

Rosalee moved over to the shop library and began scanning books for the one holding the information she needed. "Not wrong—his understanding of the Wesen has been very much localized to Western Europe, though. _Kinderphantasie_ is the German name, but the creature originates from Arabia." She pointed to a page bearing an illustration of a creature very similar to what Nick had seen. The page was written entirely in Arabic.  
"Are you saying you can read that?" Nick's eyebrows shot up incredulously.

"A little," Rosalee admitted. "I mostly know what I've been taught by my parents.

"The creature's original name was _Dal'fih-Dal'alisand_—Silvertongue. The legend goes that they use silver-infused writing implements to control people and manipulate surroundings to their will."

"That sounds like the one I met—only her victims had to be infected first." He blinked, "So how was I infected?"

"You must have read something she wrote without realizing it," Rosalee determined. "The Silvertongues can transport their listeners into and out of the stories at will."

"She couldn't do that," Nick recalled, "she could only control their actions in the real world by directing their characters in the story." He recalled the eerie wedding, and how out-of-place everything had seemed.

"Maybe she had not matured yet. Can you remember her name now?"

Nick thought as hard as he could, but— "No," he answered, "not even her face. I remember what she did, but I don't remember her."

"That must mean she erased her name."

"Erased?"

"When a Silvertongue writes a person's name and erases it, all memory of that person temporarily disappears from the minds of the people connected to that person. It leaves a hole, of course, but no amount of trying can bring it back till the effect wears off."

"How am I going I know when I will remember?"

Rosalee shrugged, "It sounds like you're remembering most things about her. It might be wearing off already."

"Why doesn't the gedankewasser work? I thought it liquifies the Bücherwurm."

The Fuchsbau explained, "Gedankewasser is more of a preventative measure. Pour gedankewasser in the ear, and the worms cannot attach to the brain. Once they're attached, though, there's not much you can do except destroy the Silvertongue's writing implements. What you saw was more than likely just the excrement from the worm."  
"So how can I destroy whatever she's using to write when she's got Bücherwurms in my head?"

"I think I have just the thing." Rosalee disappeared into the back of the shop and emerged with a small bronze box.

"Scheherazade was a Silvertongue, and she had a sister, Dinarzade, whom she used to draw the Sultan into her stories and keep him under her influence."

Nick glanced warily at the box. "Did she already have her sister infected?"

Rosalee squinted at the pages again. "According to this account, Scheherazade kept her sister from caving by the use of an amulet. Her sister could counteract the effects on herself, while enhancing the effects on someone else."

Nick glanced at the box sitting on the counter. "And you have it."

Rosalee opened the box. Inside was a bronze amulet set with amber stones. Nick pulled it out and clamped it on his wrist.

"How does it work?" he asked.

Rosalee inspected the instructions. "The Protected One must wear the amulet and speak the words thus: '_Tell me more_.' This keeps the Protected One out of the Silvertongue's snare, and no peril will befall the Protected One."

Nick watched the bracelet carefully as he pronounced distinctly, "Tell me more."

Rosalee watched him give a sudden jerk, like a man who has just received an electric shock.

"What was that?" she cried in alarm.

Nick blinked and looked around as if aware of himself for the first time.

"I..." he choked, "I think—that did it."

"Did what?"

Nick grinned. "Rosalee, it works. Mariana can't control me now."

"Mariana—you remember her?" Rosalee asked.

Nick nodded. "I remember all right—and I'm ready to stop her once and for all." He slid the cuff of his sleeve over the amulet and turned to walk out of the spice shop.  
"Do you know where she is?" Rosalee called after him.

Nick pondered, "Well, the last I saw of her, she was headed to jail, so my guess is that somebody figured out how to get her out, and she's back for revenge—and she might have the key."

"What?" Rosalee's terror was so great that she woged before she could help herself.

Nick continued, "She won't be at any of the old haunts, because they were too small—" Nick paused briefly and smiled.

"Where else would she go?"

Nick looked at the Fuchsbau. "Where does one go to hear many stories, of all kinds?" He turned heel and left.  
Rosalee nodded; of all places, it would be paradise for a Silvertongue.

"The library," she answered the empty shop.

Nick took a deep breath as he entered the first set of doors at the Multnomah County Library.  
The atmosphere was deathly quiet when he entered the ground lobby. There didn't seem to be any patrons among the shelves. Two librarians stood at the checkout counter, going about their duties mechanically. Nick didn't doubt that Mariana had infected them.

"Mariana!" he yelled. "I'm here! Come out and face me!"

"Hush! No need to shout," her sultry voice echoed off the marble floors from among the shelves. "I'm right here."

Nick scanned the aisles between the shelves, trying to locate his quarry.

"Where are you?" he called again, backing around the end of a shelf.

"Here!" Mariana hissed in his ear, and Nick whipped around amid a shower of books.

Mariana crouched before him, her hands groping the books. She chuckled darkly. "Doesn't this remind you of when we first met?"

Nick had the distinct impression of being manipulated, and the woman before him totally in control. He focused on the metal amulet around his wrist to keep her out.

Mariana sensed his uncertainty and kept talking. "I was wondering when you'd find out about my escape; did you forget about me?"

Nick kept his gun trained on her as she stood with a book in her hand. "You're a fugitive, Mariana," he hissed at her.

"Not really," she responded. "You'll find no record of my internment in the Oregon prison records. I took great pains to erase myself when I left there, so of course no one would remember me. Of course, I never forgot about you, Nicky! Surely you thought about me maybe a few times over the last few months, haven't you?"

Nick strained against the soothing notes of her voice; silver-tongued, indeed.

"As a matter of fact," he answered, "No."

Mariana hid her frustration with a shrug. "Oh well; do you know, I've been writing the most thrilling romance. All about a cop and his fiancée who wake up one morning and find good luck and get everything they want—then the Wheel of Fate turns and they end up with nothing." She reached into her collar and pulled out Aunt Marie's key, still on it's chain. "Rather a wonderful tale, wouldn't you say? Too bad it's ending soon." Her eyes gleamed savagely. "The cop is about to get some very devastating news, which will tear him apart," she smirked, "limb from limb."

Nick tried to reach the key. "Very interesting, Mariana," he mused, hoping to distract her, "_tell me more_ of the story." His voice sounded strange near the end, as if someone else was speaking over him.

Mariana woged in surprise, her saucer-sized eyes blinking before she could calm down. "How did you—where did you hear those words?" she gasped. She frowned in disappointment. "Aww, why do you have to be such a spoilsport? Oh well, I'll just have to find some other way to get you. Meanwhile... Catch me if you can!"

Nick lunged for her, but she skipped just out of his reach and up the stairs.  
"Enough! This ends now!" he muttered.

Mariana planted her feet on the landing and opened the book. Nick glimpsed the title: _Robinson Crusoe_.  
"For once," she snarled, "I couldn't agree more." She turned the page and began to read.

"_We were not far from shore when a terrible storm descended upon us_..."

Above her head, around the ceiling of the library, Nick watched in horror as dark clouds formed and thunder rumbled.


	6. Chapter 6: Literary Showdown

Nick found himself quickly engulfed in a downpour. He shaded his eyes from the pelting rain. Lightning reflected off something metallic on his wrist. The amulet!  
Nick shouted to make himself heard above the clamor.

"Tell me more of the story!" he shouted, and the words, though he thought them in English, came out of his mouth in Arabic.

The clouds dissipated, and it looked as if Mariana was not powerful enough to maintain them. Not to be outdone, the Silvertongue reached for another book.

"_I looked in my turn, and could not repress a gesture of disgust_," she read with a sinister relish. "_Before my eyes was a horrible monster worthy to figure in the legends of the marvellous. It was an immense cuttlefish, being eight yards long. Its eight arms, or rather feet, fixed to its head, that have given the name of cephalopod to these animals, were twice as long as its body, and were twisted like the furies' hair. One could see the 250 air-holes on the inner side of the tentacles. The monster's mouth, a horned beak like a parrot's, opened and shut vertically. Its tongue, a horned substance, furnished with several rows of pointed teeth, came out quivering from this veritable pair of shears."_

As she spoke, the creature itself seemed to unfold over the second-floor balustrade. Water still streamed over the marble, so this creature proved dangerously agile. Very soon it had scaled the wall and now came after Nick, tentacles flailing and horrible beak gnashing.  
Before the detective could utter a word, one of the tentacles wrapped around his neck and another around his wrist. The monster lifted him in the air and squeezed mercilessly.

"What's the matter, Grimm?" Mariana taunted, "Cuttlefish got your tongue?"

Nick tried to use his free hand to pry the tentacle away from his neck.  
"Tell...me...more..." he rasped.

Suddenly, a wild yell erupted from the direction of the checkout counters and Nick barely saw a long, black object sail straight under him and sink deep into the body of the giant cuttlefish. The beast gave a dying shudder and the spasming tentacles flung Nick clear across the room, where he thudded into the bookshelves on the second level. He could only lay there, only half-conscious, as a burly seaman dispatched the gigantic creature. Both vanished into the book from whence they came.

Nick wished in vain for his head to clear and his muscles to function, but he had only just regained his breath when Mariana's footsteps echoed from very nearby.

"Still alive?" she inquired, her voice laced with disappointment. "Well, better get back on your feet, then—" she was thumbing through the pages of yet another book, searching for the passage that would suit her needs, "—because I'm expecting company." She held the book aloft as she recited her chosen passage from "_The Wonderful Wizard of Oz._"  
"_The sky was darkened, and a low rumbling sound was heard in the air. There was a rushing of many wings, a great chattering and laughing, and the sun came out of the dark sky to show the Wicked Witch surrounded by a crowd of monkeys, each with a pair of immense and powerful wings on his shoulders."_

The lights flickered, and Nick could hear the thunderous rumbling outside. He wondered briefly if the monkeys were still visible to outsiders—then the skylight at the top of the building shattered and light streamed through, illuminating the poised figure of Mariana as the winged monkeys swarmed through the hole.  
"Get him!" The Silvertongue commanded, pointing to Nick.

He waited till the first paw landed, then he struck.

Nick had not been as incapacitated as he wanted Mariana to assume. He was only slightly bruised from his fall, but nothing terrible. Now he rose up amid scores of winged apes, using the fallen books and a stave made from a broken bookshelf to fend them off. They swept out of hid reach and shrieked at him every time he landed a blow. Now more than ever Nick wished he had his Grimm arsenal with him. He cast about, chucking books in every direction and sweeping his improvised club-staff at anything that got too close.

"What are you doing?" Mariana yelled above the din. "I said go get him! Do whatever it takes!"

Nick watched them hesitate—then the whole flock surged toward him from every direction. Rough hands clamped around his head as the book and stave were snatched from his hands. Nick thrashed as hard as he could, but there were too many; each time one let go, another latched on in the same instant. Finally, they were able to launch into the air with him. The monkeys flew with their quarry up to the level of the third floor, but did not set him down. Instead, they hovered there, several dozen feet in the air, while Mariana had time to gloat. She stood from the lounge where she had been waiting.

"If he so much as utters one syllable," she directed the monkeys, "drop him."

The animals chattered maniacally at this. One even clamped his dirty paw over Nick's mouth. Nick shrugged away from it.

"So you see, Nick," Mariana dropped the pretense of humanity and woged fully, revealing her hideous appearance, the book clutched in her long, gnarled claws, "I always win. Pity we never actually got to fight, you and I, but then again—"

"We can do that right now!" Nick snapped, and before the monkeys could remember the proper course of action, he pushed away from them and jumped the gap between himself and the third-floor railing. Catching it, he swung his legs up and over, pushing toward Mariana. She hissed, and Nick saw that the forked tongue protruding from her mouth was indeed streaked with silver. He came at her in a flying tackle and caught her at the waist. She landed and her woge lapsed.  
"Tell me more of this story," he said, and the amulet flashed.

"What? Noo!" Mariana shrieked, but it was too late. With the crash of a thousand swords and shields, who should come forth from the pages of the book but the Tin Woodman himself, fully ready to take on the flying monkeys with his axe. The monkeys shrieked and charged for him, but just at that moment, Mariana jerked away from Nick in his distraction and ran down the stairs of her own accord. By the time he looked back, the monkeys and the Tin Man were gone. He vaulted over the railing and attacked Mariana again.

Still she persisted in mocking him. "Ha! You know me so well! I just love a good fight!" She bared her claws and struck at him. Nick rolled away quickly, but he knew he had to keep her away from the books, to remove her advantage.

"You know me," he panted, "always ready to oblige a lady." He beat at her with his open hands, grabbing and flinging her back toward the stairs to get her away from the bookshelves. Meanwhile, he also tried to grasp the key hanging around her neck.

"Keep back!" she snarled, dodging down the staircase, frantic for a book. Mariana knew she would have to be the one to read if she was going to defeat the Grimm; there was no way he would read any of her writing now.

"Mariana," Nick called as she vanished into the labyrinth of shelves in the childrens' section, "Why do you need that key? It's only important to me; just let me have it and we can end this before more damage is done."

"End it?" The Silvertongue emerged in the branches of the tree right above Nick's head, large eyes gleaming as the long claws clasped the brass structure.

"Why would I want to do that?" she rasped. "I haven't had this much fun in yearsss!" Her silver-streaked tongue extended almost to Nick's face. "Besidesss," Mariana continued, "You think I don't know how important this key isss? Let me asssk you, do you know where the Sssseven Keysss came from? Where they lead? What they unlock?"

Nick knew that he didn't have this knowledge, but he chose to remain silent rather than admit it.

Mariana hummed in satisfaction. "For all you know," she jeered, "it could be that this key isss far more important to me than you realizzze!" Her tongue flicked out and back into her satisfied grin. "Ah, well, not that you're going to live long, anyway!"

She let out a sibilant hiss that Nick realized was much louder than it should have been. "Farewell, Grimm," the Silvertongue finished as the hairs on the back of Nick's neck rose. He turned to face his most terrifying sight yet as Mariana finished, "I will enjoy picking through your pulverized remains."

Somehow within the last little while between Mariana escaping him on the stairwell and finding her again, she had very evidently read a passage out of "_The Jungle Book_"—the one describing Kaa, the 30-foot python. Now that snake reared before Nick, holding him in it's unblinking gaze while it's lower end coiled abruptly around his ankles. By the time Nick realized what was happening, he had been within the python's grasp from shoulder to ankle for some time. Kaa hissed in his face, and the more Nick struggled against him, the tighter he squeezed. Nick's mouth hung open involuntarily, as he tried in vain to catch any amount of breath at all.

"Shh," Mariana soothed, picking her way over Kaa's coils with precision. She perched on a fold of Kaa's body like a vulture waiting for it's prey to expire. "Don't try to talk; you know what Kipling says about Kaa. '_When he had once lapped his huge coils round anybody there was no more to be said_.'" She glanced at the coils surrounding Nick. The detective knew that his face must be turning blue already, and furthermore, that if Kaa squeezed any tighter, it just might break a rib.  
His lips moved as if muttering one last scathing remark before lapsing into silence forever. Mariana was drawn in by curiosity.

"What was that?" she leaned in closer to him.

Nick struggled to speak louder. "Tell me... more... s'ory."

The amulet—encased by the coils of the python—flashed, and a smoke seemed to pour from the book in Mariana's hand.

Suddenly there was a terrible screeching overhead, and a congregation of apes—the famed Bandar-log and his kin—dropped from the ceiling not far from the great Kaa.

The python hissed, and the temptation was too great for him. He released Nick to go after the apes, but the minute he did, they all disappeared back into the book.

"_Not fair_!" Mariana screamed.

"You know you can't win, Mariana," Nick responded. "Anything you conjure, I can deflect with this!" He held up the wrist with the amulet.

"Not for long!" She shrieked. Locust-like, she leaped off the brass tree and grabbed another book. "All I will need to do is eliminate the competition." She opened the book and read:

"_In the midst of them, the blackest and largest in that dark setting, reclined James Hook, or as he wrote himself, Jas. Hook, of whom it is said he was the only man that the Sea-Cook feared. Instead of a right hand he had the iron hook. In person he was cadaverous and blackavized, and his hair was dressed in long curls, which at a little distance looked like black candles, and gave a singularly threatening expression to his handsome countenance. His eyes were of the blue of the forget-me-not, and of a profound melancholy, save when he was plunging his hook into you, at which time two red spots appeared in them and lit them up horribly. In manner, something of the grand seigneur still clung to him, so that he even ripped you up with an air. He was never more sinister than when he was most polite, which is probably the truest test of breeding; and the elegance of his diction, even when he was swearing, no less than the distinction of his demeanour, showed him one of a different cast from his crew. A man of indomitable courage, it was said that the only thing he shied at was the sight of his own blood, which was thick and of an unusual colour. But undoubtedly the grimmest part of him was his iron claw._"

Nick waited as Mariana's words hung in the air, but nothing moved.  
Mariana, meanwhile, closed the book with a satisfied thud. "I'll be seeing you, Grimm," she called, and disappeared. Nick turned as footsteps echoed behind him.


	7. Chapter 7: The Fatal Duel

"Avast! Proud and insolent youth!" A cutlass clattered on the floor next to him. Nick looked up in surprise. Standing before him was a tall man in a pirate captain's costume, holding a cutlass himself in his left hand—while flourishing an iron hook in place of his right. Nick looked again at the cutlass, then back to the waiting captain.

"You've gotta be kidding me," he muttered, "Right?"

"Stand up and fight me, you scum!" Hook dared him.

Nick raised his hands, "No, I don't fight; but you look like you have a story to tell." A smile played about his lips, "_Tell me you—"_

"Silence, dog!" Hook roared, swinging his hook dangerously close to Nick's throat. "Will you not fight, coward? The time for talk is over. On your guard." He kept his hook at Nick's throat and slowly raised it, forcing Nick to stand.

Nick decided it might be a good idea to pick up the cutlass on his way. Once he was on his feet, Hook swung his cutlass. Nick brought his sword up and blocked the blow. He jumped back to deliver a blow himself. The two blades clashed, and the duel commenced in earnest.

Hook proved a formidable left-handed swordsman. The fact that his free hand was also a weapon complicated Nick's ability to defend himself. Nick couldn't help thinking that even knowing the story didn't help him much, because Hook's opponents either did not defend themselves, or—like Peter Pan himself—they could fly. He forced himself to remember the sword-fighting skills he had acquired as a Grimm. As they fought around pillars and bookshelves, Nick noticed that Hook seemed particularly fascinated with the amulet on his wrist—fascinated in the sense that he desperately wanted to separate it from Nick's body.

"How would it feel if I cut off your hand to match mine?" Hook snarled, crossing swords and flourishing his namesake dangerously.

"Oh, I don't know," Nick returned in a rather breathless attempt at cavalier, "I think it might ruin my chances at baseball. Or any sport, for that matter."

Hook used the butt of his sword to knock Nick down the aisle. He paused in contemplation.  
"Baseball..." he mused, "I seem to recall such a thing—"

"Do you?" Nick struggled to his feet, "_Tell me more_."

Hook looked up quickly, but before he could react, his form dissipated in a cloud of smoke.

"_NOOO_!" A bloodcurdling scream rent the air.

Mariana the Silvertongue sprang at him over several shelves. "You've diverted your last tale!" She growled. With a grating screech, she stretched out her body, and Nick watched, rooted in horror, as she expanded to the same large, terrible form as in the Wesenkinder comic book. The silver-blue aura wavered around her, till she was nearly three times his size.

"How will you fight now?" she thundered, flicking him away down the hall like an annoying bug. "Your amulet is no protection when there is no story, now, is it?" Blue crackling sparks flickered out of her mouth as she tromped toward him, heedless of the books and shelves tumbling around her. Nick could see cracks forming in the walls above him. He scrambled to his feet and ran back toward the main lobby.

"You can't hide from me forever, Grimm!" Mariana called after him. "I'll find you, and I will crush you!"

Nick reached the empty, darkened lobby. Here was most likely where Mariana started out; it was where he had found her. He knew that last time, the key to defeating her had been destroying her means of absorbing power and protection, her typewriter; what could she be using now?

Nick ducked behind the front desk. There was a woman on the floor, with blood seeping from her ears. Nick had seen the same kind of thing before; he knew what had killed her. The woman clutched something in her hand: a pen. At first glance, Nick took it to be a normal gel pen—then he noticed something odd about the ink cartridge inside. The one remaining light in the front hall glinted off some kind of reflective material mixed with the black ink. It reminded him of the silver streaks on Mariana's tongue. Could it be?

Nick took the pen in both hands and snapped it in half. A massive cloud of blue smoke erupted from the break and threw him backwards, jerking the pen from his hands. He heard Mariana howl, and the light outside the room diminished. It did not disappear altogether, however.

Nick looked up as Mariana came through the door, only half-woged. She looked drained, exhausted—and seething with hatred.

"You cannot defeat me so easily this time!" she rasped, "_I will prevail!_" She gathered herself and gave one last mighty heave toward him.

Nick was ready. In his hand, he still held the sword he'd used to duel Captain Hook. When Mariana leaped toward him, he held his ground and held the sword pointed toward the advancing Wesen. Mariana took the whole blade into her chest before she realized what she had done. She tried to claw at his face, but her body had already reverted to human form. She gave one last shudder and died. The sword in Nick's hand disappeared, as did most of the damage caused by the battle. All that remained was the smell of smoke and the scattered books—and one dead woman. Nick took the key from around her neck and returned it to it's rightful place around his own neck. He trudged slowly to the door as the fatigue of several hours of fighting descended over him. Hank met him just outside.

"Juliette called hours ago, wondering where you were," he informed Nick, "Rosalee said you'd be here, but when we arrived, there was no way in. I had to do some fast thinking to keep Wu and Franco from calling someone else to try to break into the building. Luckily they got other calls to answer, so the captain said I could wait out here for either you, or—" he stopped. Both men knew the end of that sentence. "So," Hank continued, supporting Nick as the two friends walked to Hank's patrol car, "Juliette told me about the fight you had. Did you get the key back?"  
Nick nodded, but then winced, surprised at how much effort such a small movement apparently took.

"And the... Creature?"

Nick sank gratefully into the seat. Hank closed the door after him and climbed into the driver's seat.  
"Dead," Nick answered. "I'd let the captain know; he'll know what to do with the body."

"It's still in there?" Hank glanced back toward the library as they pulled away. "Dang, I still can't believe it's the same girl we saw last fall. It just seems so..." he shook his head.

Nick rode the rest of the way back to his house in silence.

Juliette was waiting for him on the porch. Her eyes were very red and swollen, but they shone with love and compassion when she saw Nick.  
"Oh my gosh! Nick are you okay? You've been gone all day! I didn't know where you went after the fight, and I've just been worried sick!"

She hugged him, and he found the strength to hug her back.  
"I'm fine," he said as they kissed repeatedly. "Everything's fine. I love you so much!"

"I love you too," Juliette murmured. "Promise me you won't ever go off like that again."

Nick sighed as the two of them trudged into the house. "No," he affirmed, "I don't think anything like that will ever happen again."

**Clippings from ****_The Oregonian_**

"LIBRARY VANDALIZED" [_Front Page_]  
"An unknown catastrophe struck the Multnomah County Library late Thursday night. Reports say that library employees unlocked the building on Friday morning and found shelves collapsed, cases overturned, and books scattered all over the building. Initial rumors suggest that it might have been a violent, localized earthquake that caused the damage. No word yet if any books are missing. Library officials say it will take weeks to clean up the mess and sort all the books. Multnomah Library will remain closed until they can get the aisles and shelves cleaned up, at which time they will reopen to the public. There has been no word on the part of local law enforcement participating in the cleanup."

[_O! Section, under "Weddings"_]

"Nicholas Burkhart and Juliette Silverton were reportedly married sometime within the last week, on a clear day, in an intimate ceremony attended by some local friends and a whole host of neighbors from Nick's block. They departed soon after the festivities for an unspecified honeymoon destination. Congratulations, Mr. And Mrs. Nick Burkhart. May you live happily ever after."


End file.
